


The MPY Kuudere Detective Agency

by Starship_Captain_88



Series: Stories from The Server [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Catgirls, Detectives, Gen, Potatoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starship_Captain_88/pseuds/Starship_Captain_88
Summary: Holo the Wise-wolf and Yancy the Frog Prince have successfully completed their quest for the moon.But Yancy finds he has not been forgiven for his sins against Saki, and he still has no luck in the Great Casino.He decides to start a detective agency as an interesting way to make some money.
Series: Stories from The Server [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755934





	The MPY Kuudere Detective Agency

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains some slang words from the 1930s, such as "roscoe" and "doll". If you don't know the meaning, you can look them up in https://www.lexico.com/ or https://www.paper-dragon.com/1939/slang.html

# The MPY Kuudere Detective Agency

Yancy completed the quest for the moon, which he had pursued with Skyen/Holo. He was glad to have had a proper adventure, and he looked forward to resuming a successful gambling career. He returned to the Frog Palace and resumed his princely duties. 

But to his dismay, success did not come in the Casino. Saki had not forgiven him, despite the success of the moon quest. He had to think of a new plan to restore the fortunes of the Imperial House.

He thought about the problem for several days, gradually accumulating Coins from random pickups and his daily .timely. It wasn’t hard to find work in The Server, but Yancy wanted an exciting and lucrative job; he didn’t want to do something office-based like translation work.

He whiled away hours reading lurid Dashiell Hammett novels and watching hard-boiled black-and-white Bogart flicks. This led to an inspiration.

“What The Server needs is a detective agency!” Yancy thought.

He went to his Husbando, the Princess Onecornchippy. He explained his idea, and begged for a loan of 1,000 Coins to start up his agency.

"The Casino isn’t working for you, Yancy, so you have to do something else. I will loan you the 1,000 Coins, but you must promise me not to do anything dangerous."

“Hey, Doll”, said Yancy, who was starting to assume the Aspect of a hard-boiled private detective, “Last week me and the Wolf-goddess jumped off the edge of the world, and you’re telling me not to do anything dangerous?”

The Princess could see that Yancy would not be turned from this path. She thought that a wimp Waifu was no use to the heir apparent of the Frog Throne anyway. She loaned him the coins and hoped for the best.

Yancy rented a small office on the upper-west side of The Deep. That’s where members go if they have troubles. Members with troubles need someone to talk to. Members with troubles need to find solutions.

“I need a partner in this agency. No self-respecting shamus operates without a partner. You gotta look out for each other. You gotta have someone to watch your back.”

He installed a pair of desks with green shaded standard lamps, big Bakelite dial phones, and upright typewriters on them. Yancey bought a trench coat and a snap brim hat to reinforce his Aspect. His accent turned American.

He thought about who he could team up with. “A lot of these channel kids are too young. I need someone with moxie.” Then he thought of his old gambling buddy Ms Moon Potato. She was a dame with moxie alright!

Yancey called up Moon Potato. “Meet me at the Scarlet Cathedral. I got something to put to you.”

“Why’re you talking with an American accent suddenly?”

“It’s a new Aspect. I’ll explain at the Cathedral.”

Moon Potato and Yancey met at the great door of the Cathedral. Moon was a medium-tall white dame, about 5 feet 6 inches, with short, wavy auburn hair, and warm brown eyes. Moon was wearing her usual getup of bluejeans and a white blouse under a dark sweater. High top sneakers. It looked a bit casual for hard-boiled detective work.

Moon clocked Yancey’s formal three-piece suit -- with a necktie, even! -- and polished leather shoes. She arched an eyebrow.

“Looking real smooth, Yancy. What’s the reason?”

“I’m Yancey now, Dollface. I’ll explain inside.”

They went to sit in a confession booth. It’s traditional for that kind of semi-secret meetings. Moon slid the little window open so she could see Yancey’s eyes.

“What’s this about, Yancey? Why have you got a new Aspect?”

“Listen, Moon and I’ll tell you. I need your help.”

“What kind of help?”

“I need a dame with moxie. You got moxie out the wazoo. You know how to roll the bones. You know when to double down and when to quit. You remember your debts and you pay them.”

“So what?”

“So come and join my hard-boiled detective agency and be my equal partner. You can have first billing on the door, and 50% of the profits. What do you say, Dollface?””

“What’re we going to call the agency, Yancey?”

“The Moon Potato-Yancey Kuudere Detective Agency. MPY for short.”

“Why’s it Kuudere?”

“Because we’re gonna bring justice for all the members who've had wrong done to them in the channels. At 100 clams an hour plus expenses, of course.”

The idea was attractive. Moon started to feel her way into a hard-boiled Aspect. She picked up some relevant slang.

“Will I get a gat?”

“It’s obligatory, or you can’t assume the full hard-boiled Aspect.”

Moon found a pack of unfiltered Gitanes had popped in her bag. She tapped a cigarette out and put it in her mouth, but did not light it.

“Copacetic. Count me in.”

“Thanks, babe. You’re the best!”

He took Moon to the office in The Deep. He had the name of the new agency painted on the frosted glass of the door in gold paint. He got a half-pint of rye whiskey and two glasses out of his desk drawer.

“Here, Moon, let’s toast our partnership.”

They clinked their glasses. They drank the rye, and felt it burn down their throats and set alight their stomachs. They both assumed the full Aspect of the hard-boiled gumshoe.

Moon opened the office’s tiny closet and found a girl’s formal skirt suit had popped for her. She pulled a neat, chrome-silver 0.32 Beretta auto from her purse, clicked out the magazine and worked the slide to check it wasn’t loaded. There was a box of shells in her desk drawer.

Yancey took a dull blue, snub nose 0.38 Special Colt from his trench coat pocket. He flipped out and spun the ammo chamber. Six shiny slugs slept in the cylinder.

“Moon, we got these for our protection, right? But I never want to use them if I can help it.”

They had a flyer printed up and hired some n00b members to distribute them around The Server. Together they sat and waited for the phones to ring.

It took a few days but business began to pick up. At first it was mundane cases; missing pets and lost wallets. Dull stuff, but a good way to practice their new detective skills.

Moon and Yancy worked The Server. They pounded the channels and built up contacts as fast as they wore out shoe leather.

The cases got bigger and badder, and sadder; insurance frauds, cheating Husbandos, runaway Waifus. 

Moon and Yancy didn’t complain. Their profits grew. They didn’t have to pull their pieces. Not all that much violence was involved. A lot of it was paperwork and bribes. Moon worked the chat ups and the sweet talk. Yancy took care of the strong arm stuff when necessary. 

But one day a different kind of client came to the office. A girl Mod in a smart skirt suit. She wore a fancy hat and a veil to hide her face and wolf ears. She never said she was a Mod but you could tell. Mods have got that bearing, the air of easy authority.

“You don’t need to know my real name. Call me 'Ensky'. I’m here on behalf of someone else. Someone pretty high up.”

Yancey offered her a chair. He could smell it was Skyen the Wolf Girl, who held the Avatar of Holo the Wise-wolf, cause there was a time they had got real close to each other. But he knew not to compromise her disguise, even if the tail bulging out the back of her skirt was a pretty obvious giveaway.

“Please sit down, Ms 'Ensky', and tell us about the problem.” 

“The problem is, counterfeit spuds.”

“What?” He had never heard of such a thing. 

But when you thought about it, potatoes of various types were popular gifts between members, being relatively cheap and tasty. It was a market with a lot of volume, so there maybe could be criminal value in counterfeiting them and selling cheap knock-offs at premium prices.

“Yes,” Ms 'Ensky' continued. “Someone is counterfeiting spuds and selling them to unsuspecting members. Sometimes as whole tubers, sometimes as chips. The members give the potatoes to their friends, and things go bad half the time. Members are poisoned. Some have gone blind!” 

“Oh nooo!” Moon was horrified. She had a strong appetite for potatoes and felt personally endangered. 'Ensky' went on.

“Yes. It’s got to be stopped.”

“Why can’t the Mods stop it, Ms 'Ensky'?”

“That’s a good question, Ms Potato. The fact is, all this contraband is being moved through NSFW. The Mods can’t be seen nosing around down there. Bad for their profiles. And the security bots aren’t clever enough to follow the clues by themselves.”

“Yancey, you used to hang out in NSFW a lot. What’s the lie of the land?”

“I used to go for the Catgirls, but I’ve never gone there for a while.”

“Why not?” 

Yancey pointed to his left ear. Moon had never heard the full story of how Holo came to bite him. It wasn’t something he wanted to boast about. It was kind of personal. 

“You see this mark?”

It was a crescent shaped scar, a bite, not human, not animal, something in between. A spark of blue mana flickered along the line of the scar as he rubbed it.

“Yeah. So what?”

“That’s the mark of Holo’s bite. Holo has a hold on me. And Holo, she don’t get on with Catgirls so well. If Holo caught the scent of a Catgirl on me? Goodnight Vienna. I steer clear of NSFW nowadays.”

Moon looked worried.

“Ms 'Ensky', I don’t reckon we can take this case with that danger in mind.”

“Ms Potato, you’ve got to take the case. Members are getting cheated. Their gifts are going wrong and causing harm. We’ve got to put a stop to these bad spuds. You’re the only hard-boiled detectives in The Server. No-one else has the skills to deal with it.”

“Since you put it that way, we’ll work it for a couple of days, at double the rate for the hazard, and see what we can turn up.”

“Thank you. I’ll give you half in advance.”

'Ensky' dropped a big bag of clams on the desk wirth her calling card so they could get in contact with her when they had anything to report. She left with a twitch of her tail.

“Nice one on the pay rate, Moon, but I don’t like the risk.”

“We’ve got to do it, Yancey. We’re Kuudere or we’re nothing. Besides, aren’t you working this caper to restore the fortunes of the Imperial House?”

“Yeah. But.”

“What’s the Princess gonna say if you wimp out on her now? A pile of clams like this will go a long way. ”

“Alright. I’ll do it. But this could be real dangerous. We better pack heat.”

Moon took a couple of boxes of spare cartridges out of her desk drawer, 0.32 ACP for her Beretta and 0.38 Special which went in Yancey’s revolver. He checked his speedloader and put the box of bullets in a coat pocket. Moon filled a pair of spare magazines and stowed them in her purse.

Yancy grabbed a set of brass knuckles. He slipped a cosh into the inside pocket of his trench coat, where it didn’t notice but was easily accessible.

Moon had a mean pair of kitten heels on already. She looked in the mirror to adjust her black beret to the most stylish angle. She looked feisty as she said,

“Let’s bring it.”

They took the Up Server trolleybus to the NSFW stop.

“Listen Moon, you gotta be careful in there. There's some stuff which once you've seen it, it takes a lot to forget. Goatse, Tubgirl, and Lemonparty are not a kind of magic. So take care. I got you into this and I wanna get you out okay.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, you lunk. I got me into this. We're equal partners and I'm sticking right with you.“

“That's the spirit!”

They both dropped .iam NSFW and went in. 

Inside the channel Moon and Yancy split up to double their search coverage. For a few hours they roamed the channel, seeing all kinds of stuff, some of it fun and some of it gross. They tapped contacts they had built up over weeks of gradual work. They dropped Coins in the right places. They talked to any of the visitors who didn't sneak off as soon as they were approached. Eventually they both arrived at the entrance to the Catgirl Sanctuary.

“I don’t like to say this but the place we need to go is right in there, Yancey.”

“I reckon you’re right on the money with that. Well, I don’t like it one bit, but a deal is a deal.”

They checked their heaters and went in. They soon found the unassuming door of the place they had been told about. Yancey knocked on the door. A small window opened, with a big thug behind it.

“Word is we can get the right stuff here.” said Moon.

The bruiser looked at them like a dead fish. Then he opened the door. They were admitted to the speakeasy.

In the lobby there was a selection of What The Butler Saw machines, pretty tame retro stuff. Yancey went straight for the main bar, where there was a cabaret stage with three Catgirl fan dancers on it, and a lot of customers at tables, chowing down on baked spuds or chips, and drinking cocktails.

“Three fingers of rye straight up for me, and a dry Martini for the babe.” Yancey’s macho impetuosity had kicked in again, leading him to order for his girl partner without considering her views on the matter. Moon rolled her eyes but he never noticed cause he was checking out the scene, looking for the security guards.

The barman poured the rye and shook up the Martini.

“Here’s a bowl of chips, compliments of the house.” 

The barman slid the chips over alongside the drinks. Yancey took a handful.

“What's this stuff? It’s rank.”

“That’s the best, mac, you won’t get better anywhere in The Server.”

Quick as a snake, Yancey threw his rye in the barman's eyes.

“Aaargh!”

“Whadda ya doing, Yancey?”

“Take a look, Moon. Most of the customers're bots, not members. This place is a setup, a front.”

The barman came up from behind the bar with a shotgun, a half-sawn-off pump job. He shouted, “Security!”

Yancey grabbed the pump gun’s barrel and shoved it upwards, jerking it out of the barman’s hands. The rod went off, blowing dust and chips of plaster out of the ceiling. The Catgirls shrieked and wailed. 

“YANCEY!”

He vaulted across the bar, kicking the gunman in the chest, and smashed his brass knuckled fist into the punk’s head. Blood sprayed. The bozo went down with a thud.

“Get with it, Moon, we got the game on!”

Behind the bar was another shotgun, a baseball bat, and a box of ammo.

“Thanks for the guns, ya boob.”

Yancy gave the limp body a good hard kick. A line of battle poetry came into his head:

“When I’m called off, I got a sawed off,  
“Squeeze the trigger and bodies are hauled off.”

Security got into the game, lumbering up to tackle Moon Potato from behind. A pile of muscles in a tight tee-shirt, he grabbed Moon around the chest with one arm and put his other hand on her mouth. Big mistake.

Moon opened her mouth, inhaled his finger and bit down hard. At the same time, she stamped her kitten heel on the thug’s foot.

He shrieked and tried to pull his hand away. Half a digit stuck in Moon’s mouth. Blood sprayed. He let her go. She spat the severed joint out, looking angry and disgusted.

“Way to go, Moon! You’re channelling Holo.”

Moon stamped her other heel on the thug’s other foot. Her first heel broke off, pinning Security’s foot to the floor. She jumped away, turned, and punted the heavy in the crotch.

A high shriek and Security fell to the floor, where he lay curled up, moaning and clutching his privates. The pretend customer bots were moving around erratically. There was a shot from somewhere in the crowd.

“Get over here, Moon!”

Yancey gave a hand and helped haul Moon over the bar. He handed her the spare shotgun.

“Dollface, there are times when it’s better to fill the air with bullets than actually hit anything. Ready?”

“Copacetic!”

The pair of them racked their captured sawed-offs and opened up, pumping to reload fast and spray pellets all over the room. Bots fizzed and crackled as the hot lead seethed through them. The Catgirls had already made themselves scarce.

“Keep it up, Moon, I’m going to call for help.”

There was a big Bakelite dial phone at the end of the bar. Yancy grabbed the receiver and began dialling laboriously.

Tick tick tick, Tick tick tick tick tick, Tick tick, Tick tick tick tick… It took ages to dial.

More shots.

Moon screamed, “I’m hit!”

Yancey took a couple of seconds to spray the room with his 38, trying to keep the gang members’ heads down and spoil their aim. The line connected.

“Princess!”

“Yancey? Is that you, Waifu? What’s happening?”

“Listen Princess, me and Moon are pinned down in a speakeasy in the Catgirl Sanctuary. They’re beginning to mobilise the bots against us. We need help as soon as yesterday! Moon’s been hit.”

“Is it bad?”

“There ain’t a good way to take a slug, doll!”

“Waifu!! I’m with you! Just hang on.”

Click. Brrrrr...

Princess Onecornchippy was short of Coins, but she had plenty of friends in The Server. When the shit hits the fan, friends are worth a lot more than clams.

The Princess made a call, and another call. The friends she called made more calls. Within minutes, half the active members in the channels began to converge on NSFW.

The young’uns and the Pure stayed outside, covering the exits. The Princess led the rest of them inside, carrying whatever makeshift weapons they could find.

Meanwhile Moon bled. Yancey grabbed a bar cloth, soaked it in gin and pressed it to her arm.

“Ow!”

“Sorry babe, it’s medicinal.”

He tried to reload a shotgun with one hand while taking snapshots with his revolver in the other. It wasn’t easy. The incoming fire was inaccurate but there wasn’t starting to be any less of it. The air stank of alcohol from bottles which had got hit by stray rounds.

“Screw this!”

Yancey wanted to vault the bar and lay into the milling crowd with his fists and the baseball bat. But he knew this was the power of Holo’s magic in his blood. More subtlety was needed.

“Moon, can you move?”

“Yes, if you help me.”

The pair of them crawled to the trap door which led to the bar cellar, and dropped down. This got them out of the line of fire.

“We’ll be okay here unless they’ve got a hand grenade,” he said. “I’ll just shoot anyone who tries to get down here.”

“Nyam?”

A frightened Catgirl was cowering among the racks of bottles and tubs of spuds. He winked at her encouragingly.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. We’re here for the bad guys. Not you dolls.”

“You’re gonna be okay, Moon. Can you lift your pistol?”

“Yes, I’m okay.” The wound was in her left arm, and she was right-handed.

“Cover the trapdoor while I bandage you.” He tied a bandage on her arm using his handkerchief and necktie. He fed five shells into his shotgun, cocked it, and aimed at the trapdoor.

There were shrieks, screams and howls of anger upstairs. The shooting stopped. The Princess and her buddies had started to thrash their way through the crowd of bots with frying pans and baseball bats. One tall, blue-haired girl laid about her with a cricket bat which had a half-brick nailed to it, and dealt great scathe.

The noise level went down as the rogue bots were subdued, and the few human crooks were captured.

“Waifu?”

Onecornchippy’s voice came down the trap into the cellar. Yancey was never so glad to hear it as right then.

“I’m here, Husbando. We’re alright. Moon is hit in the arm but we’ve stopped the bleeding.”

Given the general situation, the Mods thought it was okay for them to intervene. Mistress Kou reset the whole of NSFW while the mess was sorted out, and sent in a squad of security bots with Mod Dave in charge of them.

The Princess and her friends got Moon out safely and took her to the main hospital in the Mod Channel. Yancey and the Catgirl were brought out, carefully separated. Five gang members were captured, with various wounds. Moon’s arm had only been nicked in the bicep. The bone was fine and there was no serious tissue damage.

The next day, 'Ensky' summoned the detectives to a meeting in the Mods’ headquarters building. Again she was wearing disguise, as if it mattered any more.

“Ms Moon and Mr Yancey, you caused a lot of trouble down there in NSFW.”

Hard-boiled, they waited impassively to see what would happen.

“But you’ve done good. We got enough evidence to close down the spud smugglers’ whole operation. The members involved have been banned. What do you want for your reward?”

“You’ve already paid us, Ms 'Ensky',” Moon said. “We’re Kuudere. We don’t work just for clams.”

“Alright then. We’ll draw a line under this whole thing. Kou is going to reconfigure NSFW like it never happened. You can go back to your runaway Waifus and cheating Husbandos.”

'Ensky' summoned a bot to show them out. The pair cleared out of the Mod Channel and found a quiet bar in Social Media to discuss their next move. Glasses of whiskey, a jug of branch water, and a bowl of chips were delivered to their table. Yancey checked the snack while Moon watered her rye. It was a quality brand, not counterfeit. He pushed the bowl towards her, and she crunched one.

“Okay Moon, what do you think we should do next?”

“I think I need a week off.”

“Copacetic!”

They raised their glasses, chinked them for a toast, and sipped the cool rye.

THE END

© 2020 Starship Captain 88

**Author's Note:**

> Hard-boiled is a style of fiction which began to develop in the 1930s. Related to "pulp fiction" it features graphic violence and sexual themes.
> 
> Kuudere: A Japanese word deriving from the English word "cool". Kuudere characters present a cool front to conceal their warm heart. They are typically interested in social justice, and are often naturally good at fighting.


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